when the dust settles
by AlwaysPadfoot
Summary: That night will forever be in her mind. Warning: PTSD & Auditory Hallucinations


**AN: **For QLFC Season 7, Round 6. Keeper: _Madness. _Write about a character descending into madness of any kind.

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**when the dust settles **

**AlwaysPadfoot**

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When the dust settles, Susan isn't sure if she's dead or alive.

For a long, agonising moment she hears nothing; she sees nothing; she feels nothing. Then, suddenly, everything comes back so fast her head spins.

All she can hear is the echo of her Aunt's screams.

Pressing her hands over her ears, she staggers in the pitch black and falls against the cupboard door she's been trapped behind. It gives way to her body weight and Susan crumples to the floor. The door sends more dust up into the air, but this time Susan doesn't let it settle on her damp skin and scrambles to her feet.

Logically, she knows it's too late. The flash of green light is still there, in the corner of her eyes, but this isn't the time for logic—this isn't the time for rational actions.

She has to get to Aunt Amelia.

Ignoring the haziness in her head, her body threatening to give up on her, Susan feels her way through the half-light.

When she sees her aunt, her knees buckle. Dropping hard to the ground beside the lifeless body of her only remaining family member, Susan can't breathe. It's as though she's suffocating on the air—sucking in the acrid smoke from the still-smouldering hole in their living room wall.

The noise that leaves her mouth is inhuman. A strangled cry that descends into uncontrollable sobbing until her throat is raw. Concussed and exhausted, Susan can't even bring herself to notice that her own body is trembling—shaking uncontrollably. It's as though everything else is inconsequential. Her vision tunnels. All she can see is her aunt staring blankly upwards.

Nothing else matters.

By the time the Aurors turn up, she's unconscious.

To the unsuspecting eye, Susan knows she appears normal to her classmates, to her teachers, to most of Hogwarts' population. Even to her friends, she brushes any comments off and changes the topic of discussion.

She will not talk about Aunt Amelia. She can't bear it.

Deep down Susan knows she could have done more. She could have demanded to help when the wards were broken; she could have fought beside her aunt when You-Know-Who blew a hole in the side of their house. Instead, she gave in. She allowed Aunt Amelia toward her behind the door of the downstairs closet. Instead of helping, Susan had to listen, terrified, to her aunt suffer before she was murdered.

These are not the memories she would dare hinder her friends with.

After many sleepless nights back at Hogwarts, Susan is exhausted. She lies, staring up at the starry canopy above her bed, and feels her eyes grow heavy.

She prays tonight she doesn't dream.

Susan isn't that lucky.

She dreams of dark cupboards and flashes of green light. She dreams of her aunt screaming, swearing. She dreams of cruel words whispering into her ear.

_When I'm finished with you, I'll find her. _

_When I'm finished with you, and your body is lying on this floor, I'll torture her._

_When I'm finished with you, I'll make her regret you ever tried to protect her. _

Susan dreams that You-Know-Who carries out his promise: he finds her. She's trying to run but the hallway she's in seems to grow longer and longer. A never-ending cascade of dust falls from the ceiling above her, coating her sweaty skin.

She breathes it in; it lies thick on her lungs, blocking her throat.

It's threatening to suffocate her.

She knows she's going to die as she scratches at her neck. Desperately trying to scream for help, Susan collapses in the dark hallway. She keeps on falling—and trying to scream. Waking up entangled in the bedsheets on the wooden floor, she gasps for air as though hands are wrapped around her throat.

The whole dormitory is awake.

They all know she's losing her mind.

Hannah's mother is murdered by Death Eaters. When she learns the tragic reason behind Hannah's return home Susan immediately recoils and excuses herself from the conversation. Her best friend has to leave Hogwarts; it is only mid-October.

The only person who seems to be able to calm her down _abandons_ her.

Of course, she knows she can't blame Hannah, but the feeling of abandonment still rears its ugly head. She still has to get through eight months of Hogwarts.

When Hannah leaves, Susan's faith goes with her.

Now she really is alone.

Whatever it is that is making her go crazy, it wildly intensifies as the nights grow longer. Her hands start to shake as soon as it begins to get dark. Sudden flashes from spell work in class make her skin go cold. When she's alone she hears whispers in the nothingness that encompasses her.

Even though Justin and Ernie try their best to help, Susan isolates herself. She can't let them see she's losing her sanity piece by piece. Instead, she focuses on the words her aunt used to say when she was a child. Whenever she fell over, her aunt would lift her up onto her knee with her serious face on, and softly hush Susan's crying.

_It's okay. Don't you cry, Susie. What do we do instead of cry? We put on brave faces because that's what we have to do._

When someone asks if she's okay, Susan smiles and says, of course, putting her brave face on. She would change the subject rapidly—anything that detracts attention from her. Some of her go-to topics included: food, suggesting a spontaneous game of wizards chess, and that time that the Devils Snare in Greenhouse Four pulled down Ernie's trousers and exposed neon green boxers to the whole class.

It's been three months since Aunt Amelia's death so why _wouldn't_ she have started healing?

Why _wouldn't_ she be okay?

Despite the dark circles beneath her eyes, people stop asking questions. She's perfected her fake smile.

People assume she's okay.

Susan is on the precipice of losing her mind.

She can't even sleep in her room in the Hufflepuff Dormitory any longer. Instead, she finds herself wandering the Castle Grounds. There are no dark corners for the shadows to hide when she's outdoors. The outdoors is loud—filled with the wind whipping around her, the rustle of trees, and the crunch of snow underfoot. It is the only place she can feel like she can breathe.

In the end, though, her skin turns numb in the freezing cold and she seeks refuge just inside the courtyard, out of sight of any window any Professor or Prefect might be looking through.

Her shoulders slump against the cold stone wall and she focuses on the wind whistling through the courtyard archways.

She blames herself for being like this—for not trying hard enough to fight whatever _this _is. It doesn't make a scrap of sense that now, six months later, she still hears whispers threatening to invade her thoughts. It doesn't bear thinking about. Susan slides down the wall, not caring about the icy temperature, and wraps her arms around her body.

She's trying not to think about it, but all she can do is think about it.

"Susan!" A harrowingly familiar voice screams as though it's right there beside her in the half-light. "Susan! No, please! Susie, run. Susie!"

Clasping her hands over her ears, Susan squeezes her eyes shut and presses her forehead to her knees. She doesn't want to see her aunt in pain as she does in her nightmares. That is what usually follows her screaming.

"Put a brace face on," Susan whispers shakily to herself.

It doesn't go away.

It gets worse.

The screaming gets louder. Susan swears it's so loud her eardrums might never recover. The below-freezing temperature is nothing to her right now because this is the worst attack she's had. It feels like there's no end.

Maybe there is no end.

That's what Susan focuses on as her aunt screams in pain.

That's what Susan focuses on because there is nothing else.

That's what Susan focuses on when her eyes roll back into her head.

There is no end.


End file.
